


under the weather

by sovietghoststories (lucid_lies)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/sovietghoststories
Summary: Bucky takes care of a sick reader.





	under the weather

The scent of illness impregnates the air and clings to the shadows, sitting heavy in Bucky’s nostrils as he creeps into the room, putting his stealth training to good use. There are piles of pillows and blankets on the bed, tossed over the curled up figure sleeping fitfully in the middle of the mattress. 

“Hey, Doll,” he calls softly, making his way through the winding clutter of your room. “How you feelin’?”  
  
You’ve been sick for days, barely having the energy to eat let alone clean up after yourself. There’s something about this bout of illness that has you dog tired, throat stopped up and breath rattling in your chest. 

Shoving your face into the feather down, you mumble out a reply that sounds more like a groan of pain, throat clicking and sticking to itself. Blindly groping for the glass of water on your nightstand, you peek out at your boyfriend from the self-made cocoon. The worry is plain to see, digging lines into his face and darkening his eyes.   
  
He’s been frazzled since you’ve gotten sick, always hovering and ready to mother hen you. If you weren’t so exhausted you’d find it adorable and amusing. As it is, his concern just makes you crankier. All you want to do is sleep and he keeps checking on you every hour.   
  
“I’m the same as I was the last time you asked,” you croak, blurry eyes narrowed. “An hour ago; I feel like shit.”  
  
His edges soften. “Sweetheart…”   
  
Sighing in frustration, you cover the lower half of your face with the blanket. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry for being bitchy, I’m just tired of fuckin’ feeling like this. It’s been a goddamn week, I’m done.”   
  
Bucky smiles, a soft tender thing that has your heart thumping against your ribs, “I know, Doll, I know. So I went out and got some stuff.” It’s then that you notice he’s got a tray with what appears to be a steaming bowl and mug. “It’s not much but I made you some soup and a glass of tea.”  
  
Fuck, there’s even a flower.  
  
Your lip wobbles and you bite back the sudden rush of tears, feeling raw and overemotional. The constant throb of pain, the aches, has made you delicate. And like a knight in shining armour, Bucky comes in with exactly everything you didn’t know you needed.   
  
You breathe, “Oh, Bucky.”  
  
A quick flash of a smile and a gaze filled with warmth; the man folds himself onto the side of your bed and helps prop you up. His hands are firm but gentle, ready to catch you should your strength fail.   
  
“Thatta’ girl, you’ll be feelin’ better in no time. I’m gonna take care of you.”   
  
Leaning against his side, you let him spoon feed you soup, his free hand carding through your mussed hair. He strikes up random conversations, doing his best to distract you from the pain and discomfort. He’s a solid line that holds you up, the rumble of his chest more soothing than it has any right being.   
  
A warmth blooms in your chest, the swell of affection sweeping you away in the face of this unassuming man’s care and concern. He has a way of taking care of you without making you feel weak. And when the bowl is empty, he places the tray off to the side and gently pulls you into the cradle of his chest.   
  
Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Bucky curls an arm around your shoulders and rests his eyes. “Try an’ get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
  
For the first time in days, you find sleep easily and deeply. 


End file.
